The Dursleys' Tale
by CreativeTypist
Summary: What happens when the Dursley family is forced to accept magical protection to keep them safe from Lord Voldemort? Filling in the blanks left in DH by JKR as to the family's fate. spoilers!
1. Evacuation

The Dursleys' Tale

A/N: As much as I loved _Deathly Hallows_, I did feel that JKR left quite a bit of mystery around the fate of the Dursleys. This is their story, both during and post DH. Reviews are always welcome and appreciated.

Disclaimer: As much as I love the idea of JKR creating a fanfiction account to post more Harry Potter adventures, I am not her and these characters are not mine.

Chapter One: Evacuating

_Aunt Petunia, whose face had been buried in her handkerchief, looked around at the sound. She did not seem to have expected to find herself alone with Harry. Hastily stowing her wet handkerchief into her pocket, she said, "Well- goodbye," and marched toward the door without looking at him._

_"Goodbye," said Harry._

_She stopped and looked back. _For a brief moment, she considered wishing the boy she had begrudgingly raised good luck on his journey. Before the words could pass her lips, she was again struck by how precisely his eyes matched Lily's.

Regardless of Petunia's feelings about her sister's strange world, she was Lily's only sister. Petunia could vividly recall the November morning so many years ago when she had discovered her nephew on her doorstep. Lily was dead. She had died never knowing how much her sister missed her, not understanding how deeply Petunia cursed the day the Hogwarts letter had arrived. And yet Petunia was full of bitterness at her sister's death as well. Where was her beloved magic when she was struck dead by her infant's crib? Where were Lily's spell books and potions and that damned frog spawn when she needed them? Now Petunia was stuck with an infant she had no desire to lay eyes on, stuck with the burden of raising another small child. Although Harry had never been abused, his basic needs for food, clothing, and shelter always met, Petunia knew that she had never raised him as her son. If Lily really cared for him, Petunia reasoned, she wouldn't have gone and gotten herself killed.

Petunia decided against any final words to her nephew, and turned to leave. No use presenting him with a glimmer of the affection she had never felt for him. She glanced around at the gleaming surfaces of her home one last time, and closed the door of Number 4, Privet Drive, behind her, pained by the knowledge her diligent housekeeping would not be enough to protect her family any longer. Instead, she was forced to turn to her sister's filthy world for safety. Truth be told, if it weren't for her young son, Petunia thought she would take her chances against this supposed "Lord Voldemort." After all, Lily's untimely death proved that Petunia had upper hand in intelligence after all!

Parked in the driveway and clearly anxious was Vernon Dursley. He gestured frantically to the passenger seat, which had been saved for Petunia. In the back of the car, Dudley was sandwiched by a witch and wizard clearly struggling to make casual conversation. Petunia climbed into the car, and prepared herself for what was sure to be an unpleasant journey.

"Well then," growled Mr. Dursley, the veins of his neck bulging menacingly, "now that we've established that I can drive a bloody car, where the hell are you lot taking us?"

"It matters not," replied Dedalus Diggle, his voice clearly dripping with forced cheerfulness, "We just need to be far enough from here that we can disapparate safely."

Dudley, who was mentally relieving some of the highlights of his experiences with magic (a pig's tail and a dementor attack, to name a few), piped up fearfully, "You keep saying disapparate. That isn't even a real word!"

Hestia Jones smiled, mildly amused at how little Muggles understand, and replied, "I assure you dear, apparating is as real as you and me, although I admit it is a little difficult to explain to Muggles. Truthfully, it doesn't much matter whether you can fathom the concept of apparating. The plan is to leave the car, and…"

But here Mr. Dursley interrupted. "ARE YOU MAD?" he bellowed in a tone which suggested he believed this to be the case, "I will be doing no such thing. This is a company car. Just because your lot has no respect for property! Being as I am not such a git as to be unable to drive, surely this car can take us wherever we're going!"

Diggle smiled slightly. "I'm sorry Mr. Dursley, but I am afraid that is not an option. Apparation will be no trouble at all for you, just a matter of closing your eyes and appearing at our destination. In fact, this seems like the perfect place to leave the car." He gestured to an abandoned field by the side of the road.

Mr. Dursley obliged, clearly fearing the consequences for doing otherwise, and slowly craned his head around to face the occupants of the back seat. "You mean to say that if we…we…disaffernate…"

"Disapparate," interrupted Hestia helpfully, although she was becoming quite impatient.

"Disapparate, then," said Mr. Dursley with exasperation. "We're just going to magically appear somewhere else? YOU ARE MAD!!"

"But Mr. Dursley, you must understand that magic is the center of it all!" said Dedalus, glancing nervously at his watch.

Even as Mr. Dursley continued to protest, Hestia and Dedalus were pulling luggage from the car's trunk and bewitching it to follow them. Petunia and Dudley exited the car, and Vernon followed, practically shaking with rage at the thought of abandoning his care for this foolish Hocus Pocus. Dudley was terrified and himself visibly shaking, but the normally doting Petunia seemed not even to notice. Unbeknownst to her family, she was thinking, for the first time in many years, of her only sister. She was soon snapped back to the present though, when Hestia gently grabbed her arm and said, "Let's go then dears- hold on tightly, and we shall be there in but a moment!"

With that the world went black, and the Dursleys' fears multiplied with the sudden feeling of intense compression.

A/N: I have a lot of great ideas for this story- look for new chapters up soon!


	2. A New Home

Chapter Two:

A New Home

Disclaimer: Credit for these characters goes to the brilliant JKR, whose talents far surpass anything I could ever come up with!

Dudley Dursley, who had been raised to believe that his cousin's powers were to be treated with a degree of repugnance similar to that one feels towards a fatal disease, was petrified by the experience of apparating. Although Dudley was the quintessential bully, beneath his seemingly tough exterior laid a boy with as much bravery as a door mouse. As such, when Dudley's feet hit the ground after apparating, he made no attempt whatsoever to conceal frantic sobbing.

Petunia, who had spoiled and babied her son throughout his life, rushed to comfort him the best way she knew how: offering him a chocolate bar from her pocket and promising him a new video game as soon as the family was able to return home. As if on cue with these offers, Dudley's sobs immediately subsided, as he ripped open the wrapper of the chocolate bar and stuffed it in his mouth.

Vernon, on the other hand, appeared to be too blinded by rage to even notice his son's distress.

"PETUNIA!" he shrieked, turning a shade of red most would have thought impossible for human flesh, "I told you we should have dropped off that damn Potter boy at the orphanage from the moment we found him on the doorstep. Your worthless sister goes and gets herself killed, and look what this family has been through because of it!"

At this statement, Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones, who had been watching with guilty amusement (and some confusion) at the Muggle family's reaction to simple side-along apparition, appeared to take enormous offense. Diggle was a slight, silver haired wizard whose purple top hat suggested an air of gentleness. However, the tone of his response to Vernon Dursley was surprisingly stern.

"Mr. Dursley, we have agreed to help you and your family, to keep you protected from the darkest wizard of all time. What you appear not to understand is that your nephew is perhaps the greatest hope to defeat him. My offer to protect you is conditional: You will treat myself and Ms. Jones with respect. You will respect magic, as it is likely going to save your lives. And, most importantly, you will not ever speak ill of the boy who lived in my presence again. Fail to abide by these rules, and I am afraid you will be sent right back to Privet Drive and left to the mercy of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And I guarantee you, he is not well known for his merciful nature. Do I make myself clear?"

Vernon Dursley appeared as if he could explode from rage. But before he could continue his tirade, his wife grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes.

"Please, Vernon. If it was just us, things could be different. But we have Duddykins to think of. Isn't his safety more important than anything?"

Although he wanted nothing more than to argue with his wife, Mr. Dursley knew that he couldn't deny the importance of his son's well-being. Diggle was looking at him expectantly, so Mr. Dursley grunted his agreement. He would have to remain silent from this point on, he supposed, as his every thought about the situation broke one of his new rules.

"Well, now that that's settled, I'd like to welcome you all to my home!" said Hestia, whose tone suggested she was eager to put the tension of the last few moments behind her. Hestia was a very kind and maternal figure, and she had hoped that the Dursley's introduction to her world would have gone more smoothly. Perhaps the assignment of guarding this family would be more difficult than she expected.

The Dursleys glanced around expectantly, but all they could see was dense forest. As if she could read the confusion on their faces, Hestia explained, "I suppose I'll have to lift the enchantments first. You see, my home is invisible to Muggles!"

Vernon was annoyed with being addressed as such (the term made it sound as if _they_ were the freaks!), but wisely chose to hold his tongue. Hestia pulled out her wand, and muttered a few syllables under her breath. Instantly, a small cottage came into view.

The house was very quaint, with a picket fence, well-kept garden, and thatched roof. However, it was also immediately clear to the Dursleys why the home had to be kept invisible. The garden was full of strange and unusual plants, some of which appeared to be oozing a magenta liquid, others which let out an ear piercing shriek at the sound of Hestia's voice. The Dursleys watched in horror as a leaf from one particularly large vine devoured a passing mouse.

"Magical horticulture is a sort of hobby of mine. Although I daresay the banshee cauliflower may have been a mistake, although they are so tasty in stews!"

Dudley Dursley silently vowed to avoid eating anything containing banshee cauliflower.

The Dursleys followed Dedalus and Hestia up a path through the garden, toward the front door. Curled up on a bench nearby sat a very unusual looking cat. As Mr. Dursley passed, the animal pounced on his leg, biting and scratching with unusual force.

Mr. Dursley screamed, and Hestia, apparently unperturbed, pulled the cat off Mr. Dursley's leg and stroked the animal's head lovingly. "Please pardon Mr. Whiskersons. He's part kneazle, and doesn't always take well to strangers." She pointed her wand at Mr. Dursley, who shrieked again and jumped away.

"Don't you be pointing that wandy-stick at me!" he said, but she ignored him, pointing again at his leg.

"_Episkey_," Hestia whispered, and the wounds on Mr. Dursley's leg disappeared. He scowled in response, although even he could not deny the impressiveness of this.

"Perhaps magic isn't entirely useless," he thought, before coming to his senses, "Nonsense. She could have just as easily blasted my leg off!"

The Dursleys all seemed to be speechless, overwhelmed by this foreign world they suddenly had found themselves in. They had expected living with magic, a force they had tried so hard to avoid, would be difficult. But they had failed to grasp how truly different life would be in the magical world than on Privet Drive. This was made even more apparent when they entered the house.

The inside of the home seemed impossibly large given the outer appearance. From the front door sprouted a large foyer, which was lined with a number of portraits. To the Dursley's horror, the people in the pictures appeared to be moving. Petunia had all but written off this as her overactive imagination, when a stern but beautiful looking woman in a particularly intimidating portrait pointed at Dudley and said, "Could stand to lose a few pounds, couldn't you son? Or perhaps you are the victim of some terrible accident with an engorgement charm?"

"Well, at least I'm not hallucinating," thought Petunia, as she gave Dudley a hug and whispered in his ear. "Don't worry son. That woman clearly doesn't understand the value of good nutrition!"

"And you Ma'am," the portrait woman said, addressing Petunia, "Have you just been sniffing stinksap, or does your face always look like that?"

Mr. Dursley, who had no idea what stinksap was, instinctively sensed this was an insult to his wife. "Don't you speak to her like that!" he said, feeling quite crazy speaking to a portrait.

"Perhaps you all should stop experimenting with size changing spells, as your neck has clearly been hit with a shrinking spell gone wrong!" the portrait woman said to Mr. Dursley.

"Aunt Aphrodite, please be kind to our guests," said Hestia, and led the family into an elegant parlor off of the foyer, and gestured for them to sit.

"Make yourselves comfortable dears. I'll go make some tea."

Hesitantly, the Dursleys sat. To their relief, this room was without moving portraits or disturbing foliage. The only trace of this room's magic was the titles of the books on a shelf, which the Dursleys chose to ignore. Diggle politely excused himself, muttering something about needing to take care of some business at Order headquarters. Now that the Dursleys found themselves alone, they felt able to converse freely.

"A right mess that damned boy has gotten us into. What a bunch of nutters!" observed Mr. Dursley.

"Vernon, we have no choice. We might as well make the best of this."

Dudley, relieved that he had not yet found himself sprouting a tail or growing a ten-foot tongue, observed, "It's sort of like a very elaborate amusement park, isn't it?" His tone was optimistic, although he was slightly concerned at the lack a television set in this, an obvious location for one.

Hestia soon returned. Floating behind her was a teapot and several cups, and a large plate of biscuits. They landed on the coffee table, and the pot began to pour of its own accord, and passed the steaming cups to each of the Dursleys. Petunia took the first sip, and nodded to her family that it was safe to drink. Dudley grabbed four of the cookies, stuffing them into his mouth.

And so the family sat with Hestia, who was attempting to make casual conversation with this apparently uninterested audience. Soon, it began to get dark outside, and with a wave of her wand, Hestia conjured a roaring fire in the hearth.

"Don't even have electricity," Vernon muttered under his breath, although even he couldn't deny how convenient this method of fire lighting was. Soon, Hestia abandoned her attempts to engage her guests, and led them up the stairs to settle them in guest rooms where their luggage was waiting. The staircase was also lined with portraits, but thankfully these remained silent. She left Vernon and Petunia in the largest room, and took Dudley down the hall to a smaller one, which was decorated from floor to ceiling with drawings of pink flowers and fairies.

"I apologize for the lack of manly décor," she said, "But this room used to belong to my daughter." She smiled sadly, and continued down the hall to her own room.

As the home's four occupants lay in their beds that night, they all shared the same thought.

"That Potter boy had better get rid of the Voldything soon," thought Vernon, "That is, if he doesn't get himself killed first."

"Please hurry, Harry," reflected Petunia, cringing at the thought of the dust that was surely already forming on her possessions.

"I'm going to miss all of my programs if we don't get home soon!" fretted Dudley, who had found no sign of a TV in the home.

Hestia wondered how on Earth she was going to keep the Muggles entertained, let alone safe. With all of her might, she prayed that the You-Know-Who would be defeated soon. Her very world was at stake.

A/N: Yes, I know this chapter is sort of long and actionless, but I needed to set the scene. I promise more happenings next chapter!


	3. An Extra Ordinary Life

Chapter Three:

An (Extra)ordinary Life

Life has a way of moving forward around us, even in the most unusual of circumstances. Living in the sanctuary provided by Hestia Jones soon began to feel almost normal to the Dursley family.

Although Vernon remained none-too thrilled with the situation, he quickly learned to keep his displeasure to himself. In fact, he had needed to remind be reminded of the agreed upon rules only twice.

The first incident was minor: Vernon, annoyed with being awakened from the screams the Banshee Cauliflower was fond of greeting the dawn with, had ran into the garden in his night clothes and began to frantically jump up and down on the offending plant. The cauliflower was not going to go down without a fight, and began to throw a tantrum much like those Dudley had relied on for most of his life. The plant screamed and cried, and even seemed to be beating itself against the ground. Dedalus, awoken by the commotion in the garden, had dashed outside to investigate. Apparently, defacing Hestia's garden counted as disrespecting her. He informed Vernon of this, who, confronted with the idea of having his family dropped back at Privet Drive, had relented in his attack against the cauliflower.

The second incident, however, was less comical. With nothing to occupy his time, Vernon had taken to sitting on the garden bench soaking up sunshine and dwelling silently on his misfortune. Although the yard was slightly unorthodox, he couldn't help but deny its beauty. Then Vernon had thought of his own garden back at Privet Drive, and realized that without his careful maintenance, it must be in shambles. With horror, Vernon thought of the joy his neighbors must be taking watching the downfall of the yard that had once been prize winning. Enraged by their sure delight, Vernon felt his blood boil and his temper flair. Before he could stop himself, he cursed Harry Potter at the top of his lungs.

Luckily for Vernon, Dedalus was away attending to some errand that afternoon, and it was Hestia who had responded to his outburst.

"Please Vernon," she had sighed with her usual soft voice, "I have met your nephew, and he is a lovely boy. His intention in all this was never to harm you or your family. Quite the contrary, in fact, or else why would he have arranged for your protection? He is a hero in my world, and even if you can't accept that in yours, I wish you would at least refrain from insulting him in my presence."

Vernon nodded. Hestia had a way about her that encouraged compromise and good-naturedness. Around her, it was difficult, even for Vernon, too remain angry for too long. He followed her inside, where she made him some tea and promised that she would personally help him sort out his garden as soon as the Dursleys could safely be returned to Privet Drive. From that afternoon on, Vernon stayed out of the garden. Lacking a garden of his own to prune, he soon took up a new hobby: mustache maintenance. He painstakingly groomed his abundant facial hair, spending innumerable hours trimming it in front of the mirror.

Although this pursuit of Vernon's was altogether pointless, Hestia noted that it kept him out of trouble. More than once, she took advantage of a moment when he wasn't looking to shoot a hair growth charm at the mustache. Vernon noted the excessive growth, but dismissed the unusualness of this.

"Something about the damned stuff from that garden she has been slipping in our food is making my mustache grow like mad!" he noted to his wife one evening, then left the subject at that.

Lacking a television, computer, video games, (or a mustache), Dudley soon found himself with little entertainment. When seeking out something to do one day, he turned to the bookshelves in the absurdly pink room where he was staying. On them, he found, of course, books. But these books were not at all like those he had hastily discarded at home. These books had pictures that moved, acting out the stories! Dudley reasoned that this was almost like TV, and took up reading like never before.

One morning, Hestia had ventured into Dudley's room to collect his dirty clothes for the laundry, and caught him immersed in her daughter's books. She sat down next to him on the bed, startling him. He turned to her, only to see that, to his bewilderment, she was crying.

"Those books were my daughter's, you know Dudley," she had observed, conjuring a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes with it.

"Hemera was the light in my life, my only daughter. I loved her with every ounce of me, and never was I happier than I was being her mother. She loved being outdoors- it was her who started the garden, when she was about your age. She was also fascinated by animals. Care of Magical Creatures was her best subject at Hogwarts. After she finished school, she wanted to spend some time studying wild magical beasts, and then perhaps seek a teaching post at Hogwarts. After some begging (she could always get us to agree to anything), she managed to convince her father to accompany her. I stayed behind, having never been fond of camping."

She sighed, and began to cry in earnest before continuing.

"And they never came home. Months later, some muggle swimmers discovered their bodies floating in a remote lake. Perhaps it was a kelpie, perhaps something more sinister, I shall never know. But what I do know is that I was never the same after that."

She stopped talking. Dudley was uncomfortable, to say the least, but he had grown to trust Hestia (everyone did), and even to care for her in some ways. After all, she had devoted herself so wholly to helping the Dursleys cope with being uprooted from their home and thrown into this new world. The least he could do would be to comfort her in return. He put his hand on hers and squeezed, and enveloped her in a friendly hug. When he released her, she offered him a weak smile and rose to leave.

"You really are a good boy Dudley," she said. "Enjoy the books, but please, take good care of them."

With a wave of her wand, she gathered his laundry and silently left the room.

Dudley realized that for the first time in his life, he had preformed an act of kindness, however small his hand squeeze, hug, and listening ear may have been, with no accompanying bribe or expectation of reward.

Petunia too had fallen into a sort of routine, primarily consisting of keeping her hands busy to keep her mind off of thoughts of Harry, which invariably led to thoughts of Lily. After sixteen years of banishing such reminiscing from her mind, she was surprised with the ferocity with which her memories attempted to force their way to the front of her mind.

So instead of dwelling on her complicated feelings toward Lily, she threw herself into what menial tasks she had available to her, helping Hestia in the garden or kitchen as much as she could, and frantically knitting the rest of the time. A casual observer would have thought poor Dudley's life depended on her production of an army of sweaters by the end of this ordeal, given the rate at which she was turning them out. Hestia was extremely interested in this.

"I've always just bewitched the needles to knit for me," she explained. "Your way is much more fun!"

So Petunia began teaching Hestia to knit. The women were completely different, but they seemed to form a special bond as can form between mothers. Although Hestia never bared her story to Petunia quite as she had to Dudley that day, Petunia could sense that some tragedy had befallen Hestia's daughter, and this helped her understand why Hestia was so devoted to make sure the Dursleys' every need was met. Having had no one to nurture but her cat and garden for so many years, Hestia had eagerly thrown herself into caring for her charges, and her demeanor made clear her happiness to do so.

Dedalus Diggle was not such a constant in their lives, which made sense, being as the house was Hestia's. He served as the messenger to the outside world, acting on Order business and bringing back food, supplies, and even the occasional _Daily Prophet_.

One chilly evening, Dedalus had returned to Hestia's home, deposited his hat, coat, and wand on the kitchen counter, and slumped into a chair in the parlor. Hestia fixed tea, and called the Dursleys down to the parlor to share it. All five of them were settled in chairs in the parlor when a frantic tapping started at the window. Dedalus crossed to the other side of the room and opened it, taking a note from an owl that had caused the noise.

"My house…fire…Death Eaters…" he muttered in disbelief. Then he paused, every hint of color draining from his face.

"TWINKIE!" he squealed, his voice shaking with fear.

But before he could explain himself, the door exploded off of its hinges with a resounding bang.

A/N: Who could it be at the door? Chapter Four up soon! In the meantime, please review!


	4. Lord Voldemort's Men

Chapter Four:

Lord Voldemort's Men

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, who was kind enough to leave lots of missing moments in DH for people like me to attempt to fill in.

Standing in the doorway were two large men, menacingly clad in black robes. Something about the men indicated, even to the Dursleys, that these were not friendly figures. This was confirmed when Hestia Jones, who was normally so calm and collected, screamed and hastily drew her wand.

Unfortunately for her, the larger of the two men, apparently the leader, acted before she had a chance.

"_STUPEFY_!" he yelled, and with a burst of red light Hestia's body crumpled to the floor. All three of the Dursleys turned their heads to Dedalus, who was quivering on the other side of the room, wandless.

"Amazing what one can accomplish with Veritaserum and the Cruciatus curse, even on house elves, eh Diggle? _Avada__Ke__-"_

"NO SELWYN!" roared the man's companion, knocking his wand from his hand. "Think of what valuable information about the Order's activities the Dark Lord can extract from him! _STUPEFY!"_

There was another flash of brilliant red light, and Dedalus, the Dursleys' last real hope for protection from these aggressors, collapsed limply to the ground.

Petunia reacted with animal instincts, grabbing Dudley by the shoulder and attempting to drag her son, who appeared to be frozen with shock and fear, out of the room toward the staircase. However, his weight far exceeded hers, and before they had made it more than two paces the Death Eaters acted again, each pointing their wands at the retreating pair and shouting, "_Incarcerous__!"_

Petunia and Dudley too fell to the ground, conscious but tightly bound in thick ropes.

Vernon started toward his wife and son, but the larger visitor ordered him to stop. Mr. Dursley, who was glad to remain mobile and intended to keep it that way, obliged.

Wasting no time on pleasant introductions, ("How very rude," thought Petunia), the duo's leader spoke coldly.

"Where is the boy?"

"What boy?" said Vernon, apparently hoping the man had stumbled upon the wrong house, "The only boy here is my Duddykins, and he can't possibly be.."

"Not your fat, disgusting muggle offspring, Dursley. The Dark Lord has no use for him other than as a potential feast for that damn werewolf, Greyback. I am speaking of your dear, dear nephew."

"I have no bloody idea where that blasted boy is, nor do I care to find out."

"You are lying to me, filthy muggle! I am a member of one of the purest wizarding families in history. Your lies are akin to spitting on the Lestrange family tree! _Crucio__!"_

Mr. Dursley flopped to the ground, screaming, his body racked with a pain ten times worse than any he had ever experience, or even imagined.

"VERNON!" sobbed Petunia frantically, "STOP IT!"

"As you wish," said Lestrange calmly.

Vernon Dursley stopped writhing, although all the blood seemed to have drained from his face and he clearly lacked the ability to pull himself back to a standing position.

"I ask you again, muggle. WHERE IS POTTER?"

Vernon whimpered, sniffled, and whispered, "I don't know, damn it. With any luck, the bloody boy is already dead and this nonsense can end."

Anger filled the Death Eater's face.

"Liar. Stupid filthy muggle, thinking himself worthy to fool Rodolphus Lestrange! _Crucio__!"_

Vernon thought he might die. Truth be told, at this particular moment in time, he figured that may be the best possible outcome. He felt as if a million white hot knives were piercing every inch of his body. He thought his head would explode from the pain. He thought he could not possibly take another second. And then everything went black, and he gratefully slipped into nothingness.

"Damn muggle," muttered Lestrange, and his companion nodded agreement.

"Is he dead?" Selwyn asked. Lestrange walked over to Vernon and examined him briefly.

"No, just unconscious."

The man raised his wand. "_Avada__-"_

"NO!" shrieked Rodolphus, "Selwyn, you imbecile, the Dark Lord wants them alive when we finished interrogating them! How the hell will we use them to bait Potter if they are all dead?"

Petunia was crying, but it was Dudley who was sobbing the loudest, his grotesquely obese body wracked with hysterical tears. Never in his life had he been so afraid, not even when Dementors had appeared out of nowhere and attacked him and Harry. At least then Harry had been there, wand in hand, to protect him. Now there was no one. Dudley looked to the door hopefully, as if expecting Harry to come running in, wand raised, and save him again. But no help came.

Selwyn, apparently eager to redeem himself in the eyes of his companion, crossed the room and untied Dudley Dursley.

"Where is your cousin, filthy boy?"

"I don't know- when we left Privet Drive, he stayed behind. Someone was supposed to come for him later, and I don't know where he was going from there- Please, NO!"

But the rage of his interrogator was mounting.

_"_ALL LIES! _Crucio__!"_

Dudley began to writhe and scream, experiencing the same white hot pain that his father had suffered moments before.

"NOOOOO!" shrieked Petunia. "YOU WILL NOT HARM MY SON!"

And then something amazing happened. Selwyn froze momentarily, and was then blasted ten feet backwards, where he landed and did not stir.

Rodolphus, momentarily distracted by the sudden unexplainable incapacitation of his partner, was jumped from behind by Vernon Dursley, who had regained consciousness and managed to gather enough adrenaline-fueled strength to attack.

Vernon was not himself a small man, and his surprise tackle pulled Lestrange to the ground. Mr. Dursley took advantage of his opponent's shock at this turn of events to seize his wand, and begin beating him frantically over the head with it. After a few blows, the wand broke in half. Vernon, his energy apparently strengthened by the animalistic desire to protect his family the best way he knew how, grabbed Lestrange around the neck and began to hammer his head against the ground.

"NO…ONE…HURTS…DUDLEY!" he grunted as he pounded. Soon, Lestrange had been knocked out by the force of Vernon's blows.

Petunia, with an air of forced calm about her that was very unexpected given the situation, began issuing instructions.

"Dudley dear, if you can manage, please go and retrieve Selwyn's wand before he wakes up. Vernon, please untie me and help me try to wake Hestia and Dedalus."

Both men obeyed the woman's wishes, although Dudley was shaking and crying as he did so.

After a bit of prodding, the unconscious pair began to stir, but it was Hestia who awoke first.

She looked around, noting with joy and shock that all of her charges were alive. Even more surprising though, was that their two attackers both appeared defeated! With some effort, she managed to pull herself to her feet and investigate, wand clutched tightly in her hand.

Lying nearby was a face she recognized as one of the Lestrange brothers, who had yet again broken out of Azkaban with You-Know-Who's takeover of the Ministry. She noted that his wand was snapped in half, his face bloody, and his nose apparently broken.

"Muggle fighting," she thought to herself. "So crude, but it does appear to do the job." She couldn't help but wonder though, how the Dursleys had managed to beat two blood thirsty death eaters with magic on their side.

She walked a little further to the other body, that of a man she did not recognize. Hestia bent down to examine him, noting that this man had appeared to sustain no visible injuries like those of his friend, and his wand was still in his hand.

Hestia gasped. "What happened to this one?" she called to the Dursleys, all of whom were crying and clinging to each other. Seeing as Vernon had been semiconscious and Dudley tortured when the incident occurred, Petunia knew the answer fell to her, even though she lacked any real explanation.

"Well," she started, "he was hurting Dudley, and I…I yelled for him to stop, and then…well…he just sort of flew backwards."

"Oh, dear Petunia, you are truly Lily's sister!" Hestia exclaimed excitedly.

Petunia, unsure whether this was an insult or compliment, and even more unsure how this obvious statement was relevant to the conversation, looked back at Hestia with confusion all over her face.

"You stunned him, Petunia! You did magic to protect Dudley, and judging by this man's current state, strong magic at that!"

Petunia was more confused than ever. _She_, plain, ordinary, "muggle," Petunia, had done magic? Impossible!

But the look in Hestia's eyes and the lack of alternative explanation convinced Petunia that Hestia was indeed telling the truth.

Her husband and son stared at her with disbelief, but seeing as her sudden burst of power had likely saved all three of their lives, they made no comment. Petunia said nothing either, apparently struggling to come to terms with the fact she had harnessed a force she had tried to ignore since her sister had met that wretched boy from Spinner's End all those years before.

Hestia returned to the group and helped Dedalus to his feet. He was older than she, and clearly the stunning spell (and likely the shock of hearing about the destruction of his home) had affected him more than her.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to find someplace else to hide before these two wake up and send for their cronies." Hestia said. With a wave of her wand, Lestrange and Selwyn were bound with ropes much like the ones that had encased their would-be victims just minutes before.

Ordinarily, Mr. Dursley would have complained about the lack of notice to their departure and the fact that they clearly would not have adequate time to pack, not to mention that the only way out of here was to disafflicate (or whatever the hell it was) again, which he was not keen on doing, especially given the general feeling of unwellness that settled post-torture. However, sensing the immediate danger to his family, he chose to keep quiet. The five joined hands, spun on the spot, and disappeared.

A/N: Anyone remember reading an interview from Jo quite a while ago where she had revealed that someone would do magic late in life in _Deathly H__allows_? Well, seeing as this never made the final cut of the book I decided to add it back in. As Hestia says, Petunia is Lily's sister, so it is unsurprising that there is a hint of magical blood running through her veins, which she inadvertently employs in a frantic attempt to save her beloved son. Please review- lack of reviews for this story is making me sad (many thanks to those who have reviewed!).


	5. By the Sea

Chapter Five: By the Sea

A/N: Thanks so much to my wonderful, fabulous reviewers. You guys are so nice! Sorry it has taken me a while to get this chapter up, I am in the process of getting ready to move out-of-state next week.

Vernon Dursley was angry. This wasn't anything unusual, of course. But Vernon's anger when his family and their two magical protectors landed at their destination was a different sort of anger, that which comes only when one uses rage to conceal great fear. For much to Vernon's surprise, they had landed on a small island with a tiny shack in the middle of the ocean. Bitterly, Vernon remembered the last time he had tried to hide from magic in just such a place: A giant had broken in, called him names, waved a lurid pink umbrella, and cursed his only son with a pig's tail. The irony of the situation was not lost on Vernon. If he had only succeeded in that attempt at hiding, perhaps the boy never would have gone to the blasted school, and perhaps none of this new hiding would be necessary.

Petunia seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as she reached out and grabbed Vernon's hand.

"We didn't have them last time, dear," she whispered, gesturing to Hestia and Dedalus who were waving their wands and muttering a variety of intricate incantations around the place.

Having seemingly completed this task to their satisfaction, the graceful witch and stout wizard motioned for the Durselys to follow them inside.

The place was as unlike Hestia's bright home as one could imagine. The shack was but one room, and unfurnished. The cold stone walls were undecorated, and the floor consisted of packed down dirt. The place was freezing, dark, and damp. The Dursleys' attitudes soon fell into place with their surroundings as they were all hit with the apparent hopelessness of the situation. They would surely be found again, and this time, would not be so lucky.

Hestia, ever the master of household spells, waved her wand and five cots appeared. Another flick, and they were covered with bedspreads so colorful they were almost garish.

"Just thought we could use a little color here, eh dears?" she said with a smile, and moved to a small kitchenette in the corner of the room and set about making tea.

"Welcome to the home of my dear late mother," Dedalus said as he conjured a fire in the fireplace, although his tone was more depressing the welcoming.

"Your mum lived here?" asked Dudley, incredulously.

"Well, it was actually the work of my younger brother. My family was quite wealthy, and lived in a lovely old manor house to match. As the oldest son, I was set to inherit it. But my brother was selfish and greedy, so he took advantage of my absence one day to tinker with my parents' memories. He convinced them that their greatest desire was to move to a deserted island in the middle of the north sea, and that they should give the house to him. And so they did, turning the deed over and coming to live here. They didn't last long after that. As you can tell, the place doesn't exactly inspire blissful feelings, and soon they lost all will to live and just…stopped. I was…_fortunate_…enough to inherit the place."

"What a terrible story!" Vernon said sincerely, thinking back to his fears that the Potter boy was out to do the same with his home on Privet Drive.

"Indeed it is. The worst part of it, of course, is that my brother chose to force his parents to move here rather than somewhere pleasant. You see, this island is located in the Skagerrak Strait of the North Sea. Azkaban isn't far from here."

"So the hopelessness we are feeling- that's from the dementors?" asked Dudley fearfully, putting two and two together in light of his experience with the creatures two years before.

"Yes. They won't try to harm us, considering they have quite enough innocent souls to feed off of right now at the prison, but when they are found in such high concentrations, their effects are far-reaching.

Petunia shuddered, and sank down onto her cot.

"We'll just have to do our best to combat them," said Hestia cheerfully. "_Expecto__Patronum_" she shouted, and a silver giraffe strolled lazily out of her wand and began to trot around the room. Instantly, the space felt warmer.

Dudley stared in admiration at the silver animal, wondering why his parents had been so against magic, when it was so very…well, magical!

Soon the group all settled on their cots. It had been a long and terrifying day for all of them.

When it seemed as if the Durselys were all asleep, Dedalus whispered to Hestia.

"I'm so very sorry about all this. I had invited Kingsley over for tea a few days ago, and my house elf, Twinkie, brought it to us. She must have overheard us discussing your whereabouts. I didn't worry too much about it, just forbade her to tell anyone. I didn't consider what terrible things the death eaters might do to try and extract the information from the poor creature."

"It's quite alright, dear. I really didn't expect that we could hide there forever, I had only hoped that we would be tipped off in advance of the need to relocate On the bright side though, I can't imagine how they could find us here."

Hestia rolled over and pretended to go to sleep, but all she could think of was what the death eaters were surely doing to her beloved home. They would search it first, of course, and then it would likely be dispatched of much like Dedalus's. She was flooded with grief, thinking of how this action would rob her of her beloved daughter's bedroom, and all the memories it held. With these thoughts, the silver giraffe disappeared.

Dedalus seemed to notice the wave of cold, as he sat up, drew his wand, and cast his own patronus. The silver penguin began to waddle around the room.

Hestia and Dedalus didn't realize that two of their three charges lay awake also, despite their overwhelming fatigue.

Vernon's mind played the events of that afternoon over and over, remembering how helpless he had felt to protect his family. He was of course glad that his wife had saved them, but he wasn't so thrilled by the means. His Petunia had done magic, harnessing a force he had so long thought to be nonexistent. He knew that he would never look at her quite the same, as he would now be eternally reminded of her strange heritage and the twisted events of that day.

"At least Dudley is normal," he thought bitterly.

Petunia was equally troubled by her magical outburst, although her feelings about it were quite different than her husband's. She felt almost as if it was Lily who had saved her family. After all, they were Lily's powers, not Petunia's. Petunia felt terribly guilty, and her gut twisted with grief at the thought of her sister, to whom Petunia could never, ever have the opportunity to apologize. Petunia thought back to the last time she had seen Lily, shortly after the girl had graduated from Hogwarts.

She had returned home holding the hand of a handsome black haired man.

"I'd like you to meet James, Petunia," she had said. "We are going to be married, and we'd love if you could be there."

"I'd rather die than be caught among freaks like you," she had said bitterly, storming away. She had turned to look back, and in doing so had caught a glimpse of a tear running down her sister's cheek. James had reached up and wiped it away, embracing his fiancée. Disgusted, Petunia had exited the room.

Lying on her cot in the shack in the middle of the North Sea, Petunia was flooded with an emotion she was entirely unfamiliar with: remorse.

"Thank you, Lily, for helping me save my family," she whispered, rolling over and attempting again to sleep.


	6. The Welcome Owl

Chapter Six:

The Welcome Owl

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This should be obvious. And, by the way, despite its lack of disclaimer, I didn't own Harry Potter in the last chapter either. I guarantee that suing me, an extremely poor college student, would be an utter waste of your time.

One of the most amazing things about human beings is their ability to adapt to nearly any situation when their survival depends on it. Despite their numerous idiosyncrasies, the Dursley family was not exempt to this phenomenon. As such, they soon settled into a daily routine in the shack by the sea.

The five occupants of the shack, as odd a combination as they might have been, all felt equally imprisoned. Their environment was cold and dreary, despite the constant presence of the giraffe and penguin patronuses. They were all bored, irritable, and confined. The situation the group had found themselves in was not a pleasant one.

The situation also was far from safe. Following their defeat of the two death eaters, the hunt for the Dursley family had intensified. Voldemort himself was especially interested in capturing Petunia after hearing about her sudden burst of magic. Muggle power surges like this could be dangerous in his mission to put muggles back in their proper place, so he was eager to interrogate her and then personally punish her for her act of defiance against his henchmen.

This point was made quite clear to the group when Dedalus returned one morning after an early morning mission to replenish their food supplies. Under his arm, he clutched a copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Found it in a bin," he explained. "Normally I try and avoid such rubbish, but a picture on the front page…er…caught my eye."

Vernon, who had missed his morning paper nearly as much as he had missed ignoring the existence of magic, snatched it away from Dedalus.

He stared in horror at a recent picture of his family slapped on the front page beneath the glaring headline:

_Muggle Family Wanted for Questioning in Unprovoked Assault on Two Wizards_

Vernon threw the paper aside without even reading the article.

"I should have figured that your lot's bloody newspaper would be entirely worthless," he muttered under his breath, trying not to betray his fear at this new development. "Unprovoked attack my…"

"They've put a two hundred Galleon price on your head, Petunia, and one hundred each for Vernon and Dudley," interrupted Hestia, who had grabbed the paper and skimmed the article when Vernon dropped it.

"Well, we can't find much more of a remote hiding spot than this," Dedalus said, his voice dripping with obvious forced optimism as he tossed the paper into the fireplace. "Surely this will all be over soon, and they won't have an opportunity to locate us."

In actuality, Dedalus was terrified. His daily trips to procure rations were as dangerous as they were necessary. He had put much work into improving his disillusionment charms, but he knew that if he was captured, the results would be disastrous and more than likely spell the end for the three Dursleys and dear Hestia.

Nonetheless, life in the shack went on. Just as he had at Hestia's cottage, Vernon spent much of his time sitting on a bench outside, which Hestia had kindly transfigured from a rock for him. Sometimes, she would join him, and they would sit in silence and watch the sea together. Generally, this pursuit was frustratingly dull, given the barrenness of their position in the cold remote strait. On one occasion though, Vernon spotted a strange, boar-like creature with giant curly horns swimming near the island.

"What the bloody hell is that?" he asked Hestia, pointing at the beast.

Hestia was momentarily dumbfounded, but, as a closet _Quibbler_ reader of many years, managed to stutter, "It looks like one of Xeno Lovegood's Crumple-horned Snorkacks! I didn't realize they were aquatic. I'll have to remember to send him an owl when all this is over!"

Dedalus, who had overheard this conversation, chuckled to himself, "Hestia Jones- A _Quibbler _fan. Who would have guessed?"

Vernon, having no idea what the _Quibbler _was and being quite positive that there was no such thing as a Crumple-horned whatsit, stormed back inside the shack, to resume the shack's ever popular pastime: doing nothing.

For Dudley, life by the sea was far less entertaining than he had ever imagined possible. However, he soon found himself engaging in an activity that he would have once done everything in his power to avoid: deep thinking.

For Dudley, it literally took torture to bring about this change. After the incident with Selwyn, Dudley found himself with a changed perspective on many things. When he had been writhing on the ground, screaming in pain, he was surprised that the normal bitterness over missing his television programs and being forced to live in a room bedecked with pink fairies disappeared. Instead, the part of his brain that was still able to function despite the pain had thought about his mother, who he had taken advantage of as a source of treats and presents for most of his life. Upon considering it, he couldn't think of a time he had ever told her he loved her without expecting a candy bar in return.

He also thought of his father, who was so very proud of him even though he had never done anything to deserve it, unless you counted beating up younger boys half his size and managing to pass most of his subjects in school most of the time. Dudley vowed that when this was over, he would eventually do something to make his father proud of him.

Most surprising of all was that Dudley also thought of Harry, the closest thing to a brother he had ever had. He considered of all the terrible things he had done to Harry over the years, and in doing so, Dudley Dursley experienced an emotion that was entirely new to him when he contemplated Harry Potter: guilt.

Of course, Dudley was still Dudley, and he found plenty of time to whine about the lack of proper entertainment, food, and heat. For the most part, however, Dudley had experienced more personal growth as a result of two minutes of torture than he had in most of his life up to that point.

Petunia too took advantage of the quiet inactivity of life at the shack for introspection. She thought of the damage her magical outburst may have done to her marriage, even though she knew Vernon would never admit that he was troubled by this action, seeing as it had saved his life.

She took to spending a great deal of time sitting next to her silent husband on his cot, holding his hand.

"I'm not like her," she whispered in his ear. "I'm normal, just like you and Dudley."

This seemed to comfort Vernon somewhat, especially when Petunia demonstrated, picking up Hestia's wand and mimicking one of the spells she had heard, with no effect.

Petunia, however, just felt worse from these exchanges. For if there was one effect her first and only use of magic had had on Petunia, it was to force her to think of her sister, and how the pair who had once been the best of friends had ended up. Lily was dead, and for the sixteen years that had elapsed since this tragedy Petunia had clung to her feelings of bitterness and estrangement to her only sister. Petunia had even gone so far as to take out her resentment on the only connection she still had to Lily, her son, Harry.

More than anything, Petunia wished she could make amends with her sister. Surely this exile her family was now facing was some sort of punishment for Petunia's attitude and behavior toward Lily Evans.

Much of the group's time though was spent attempting to make small talk and stay connected to one another on some level, in hopes that doing so would allow their sanity to remain intact. As time wore on, however, it was clear that they were all struggling to remain positive about the situation. This was visually apparent by the silver patronuses gliding around the room. As the months passed, they became slow and dim, and had to be recast on a much more frequent basis.

One morning several months into their stay at the ocean shack, Hestia awoke to find that their silver guardians had disappeared overnight. This wasn't unusual, as the spell could not retain its power when the caster was not around to feed it with their happiness. What was unusual was that regardless of how many times she tried, Hestia couldn't summon enough hope, happiness, and general good feelings to summon more than a short-lived silver wisp from the end of her wand. The apparent hopelessness of the situation, coupled with the rapidly breeding dementors nearby, had finally defeated even Hestia's ever present cheerfulness.

So Dedalus's penguin became their sole guard against the dementors, until finally, he too became unable to work the spell successfully. The group was soon filled with new levels of despair without the warmth of the glittering patronuses. They abandoned their long standing attempts at interaction, in favor of sitting in silence interrupted by occasional tearful outbursts by Hestia and Petunia.

It soon became apparent that this couldn't continue for long. Like Dedalus's parents, the gloom of the place without the warming glow of the patronuses soon left the five prisoners without the will to go on. They all felt as if their deaths were inevitable and drawing nearer by the second. What was the point of continuing to work so hard to live, when it was only a short matter of time until the death eaters found them? All sense of hope had gone from the shack.

After a little over a week of this intense collective depression, a sharp rapping on the front door awoke the group. Dedalus stumbled to the door, not even bothering to grab his wand. Surely this was the knock of death, coming finally to put them out of their misery.

However, when he opened the door Dedalus was surprised to see not the hoard of death eaters he had expected, but rather two enthusiastic barn owls. Dedalus collected the letter they brought, opened it, and began to read aloud.

"Dear Hestia, Dedalus, Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley. Harry Potter has defeated Lord Voldemort. We have sustained heavy casualties, but good has triumphed over evil. I suggest you wait a few days for us to round up the surviving death eaters and then the Dursley family may return home. Hestia and Dedalus, there is room for you at Order headquarters if you require a place to stay until your homes can be returned. Best of luck on your journey home, Kingsley."

The five sat in silence, digesting the contents of the letter for a moment, and then, one by one, began to laugh.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!" _shouted Hestia, and out of her wand erupted the beautiful giraffe, restored to its former glory.

"We've made it!" said Petunia, triumphantly.

"Perhaps the boy isn't entirely worthless," grunted Vernon, although the glee in his voice was unmistakable.

"We can go home now!" laughed Dudley with jubilation.

Hestia and Dedalus embraced each other, and Hestia went on to embrace each of the Dursleys, in turn.

The group waited one week, as Kingsley had advised, which passed quickly as an air of celebration had displaced the dark despair that had ruled the shack for so long. Dedalus even let off a storm of shooting stars for the Dursleys' amusement, although Hestia chided him for it after the problems the stars had caused following Harry's first victory against the Dark Lord.

Then, on a bright and sunny morning nearly a year after they had first gone into hiding, the Dursleys and their unlikely new friends linked arms, spun on the spot, and reappeared in the living room of Number Four, Privet Drive.

With the Dursleys safely returned to their world, it was time for Hestia and Dedalus to return to theirs. The group said their goodbyes, and the Dursleys' protectors disapparated to Order headquarters.

The three Dursleys, alone for the first time in nearly a year, took stock of their surroundings. The home had obviously been searched, and several family pictures, including that which had appeared in the newspaper months before, were missing. Papers and knick knacks were strewn everywhere. To top it all off, a thick layer of dust had settled on everything. Vernon and Dudley expected Petunia to rush to the kitchen, collect her cleaning supplies, and get to work. So they were very surprised by her next action.

Petunia walked over to the mantelpiece, and delicately chose one of the empty frames, a particularly ornate silver one.

"I have something I need to do in the bedroom. If you two would please excuse me for a few moments, I would appreciate it," she said softly.

Petunia walked to her dusty bedroom, set the picture frame on the bed, and began rummaging through a box at the bottom of the closet. Finally, she found what she was looking for: a picture of two young girls, one with red hair and beautiful green eyes, swinging on a swing set. She placed the picture gently into the frame, and put it on her nightstand.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," she whispered.

And for just one moment, she could have sworn she heard someone whisper in reply, "All is forgiven."

Petunia smiled. She felt more at peace, even surrounded by dust and filth, than she had in more than sixteen years.

A/N: I'm not too crazy about this chapter- my intention was to indicate the passage of uneventful time, but I think it comes off sounding disjointed. Don't abandon me yet though, epilogue still to come (hopefully tomorrow!). Please review!


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this fic. I've really enjoyed writing it, and I hope that you all have enjoyed reading it.

Halloween…

Petunia Dursley was in a hurry that crisp October morning. Having dressed in her best traveling coat, she had one stop to make before catching her train. She hustled into her regular flower shop, speed walking to the counter.

"I have a bouquet to pick up."

"Petunia Dursley?"

"Yes…"

The clerk retrieved a beautiful bunch of flowers from the cooler, and handed it to Mrs. Dursley.

"Petunias and Lilys? An unusual choice, but they work well together," said the clerk kindly.

"Indeed," replied Petunia curtly.

She paid for the flowers, and bustled to the train station.

It was cool and quiet when Petunia arrived at her destination, a small and quaint village with a wooden sign.

"Godric's Hollow," read Petunia, with a sigh.

The town was small, and even though Petunia had never been there before, it didn't take her long to find the church, behind which was the small graveyard that had drawn Petunia to this place.

She walked past the ancient stones, glancing at each as she passed to ensure they were not what she sought. Then, she caught sight of a familiar figure kneeling at a plot.

"Hello, Harry," she said softly, so as not to startle her nephew.

He looked up, apparently shocked, but then smiled at her.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia,"

"She would have been so proud of you, Harry."

"And she would have forgiven you."

And then something very unexpected happened. For the first time since she had met her nephew, Petunia pulled him into a hug. It was stiff and awkward, and not overly pleasant. Petunia was still Petunia, and Harry was still Harry, and eighteen years of dislike still hung between them. Nonetheless, it was a special embrace.

Petunia knelt down next to her nephew, and set the beautiful flowers reverently at the grave of her only sister.

The unlikely pair remained there, in reflective silence, for several minutes.

Then Harry, who was, Petunia noted, a full grown man now, stood and brushed the dust off of his pants and a tear off of his cheek.

"It was nice to see you, Aunt Petunia," he said politely.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Harry," Petunia whispered.

He nodded at her, and then disapparated.

She remained in the graveyard for another half hour, crying softly and running her hand over the cold stone that was the only physical link she had to Lily Potter.

A Few Years Later…

It was a sunny, warm May afternoon. Dudley Dursley was immersed in a stack of papers on his desk. He had become an associate in his father's drill making company, and, overall, he was happy with his life.

However, Dudley was also very busy, so he was initially annoyed when he heard a loud tapping noise. At first, he was slightly bewildered as to the source of the sound. It didn't sound wooden, so he highly doubted it could be coming from his door. Furthermore, his desk was on the 11th floor, so it certainly couldn't be from his window.

Or could it?

Dudley slowly spun around in his plush desk chair. Many people would have been shocked to see the magnificent snowy owl that was banging on Dudley's window. But Dudley knew precisely the mission this exotic creature was on. What he did not know was who on earth would be contacting him by owl post?

Hoping no one was watching, Dudley opened his window and removed the screen, allowing the bird to fly into his office.

"Er…Hi," Dudley muttered. Having never received any mail in this form, he was unsure exactly what to do next.

The owl almost seemed to sigh in annoyance, and shook its leg impatiently at Dudley.

"Oh!" Dudley said, spying the bit of parchment tied to the animal's leg.

He collected his letter, unrolled it, and began to read out loud to no one in particular.

"You are cordially invited to witness the union of Mr. Harry James Potter and Ms. Ginerva Molly Weasley!"

Dudley paused for a moment and read on, making note of the date and time for this ceremony.

"Blimey! Harry's getting married and he wants _me_ to come," thought Dudley, sinking back into his chair. He was lost in thought for a moment, until a sharp peck on his hand demanded his attention.

"You're still here?" he said to the owl. "What do you want?"

The bird pecked at a small RSVP card that had fallen out of the invitation.

Dudley smiled. "You little buggers are smarter than you look, aren't you," he said to his feathered companion, reaching for a pen on his desk. Dudley hesitated for but a moment, then checked the "yes" box. He tied the card to the owl's leg, and the bird took off again, flying out of the window and into the sky.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, mate," Dudley muttered sincerely, marking the date on his calendar.

A/N: Yes, I know Vernon was missing from the epilogue. After his year in hiding, I suspect Vernon goes back to his ordinary, anti-magic existence, although I am sure he has a newfound tolerance for Petunia's picture of Lily, visit to Godric's Hollow, etc.

Anyway, this story is now complete. Up next for me are probably some one shots, starting with:

Heart of a Gryffindor

Summary: After Neville's first detention with the Carrows, he reflects on what it means to be a true Gryffindor and has an encounter with everyone's favorite blonde-haired Ravenclaw.

Coming Soon!


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